


Close to Home

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, I only had 500 words and I spent a lot of them on nature descriptions, M/M, Moving In Together, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: A pub lunch leads to a walk in the countryside, and Aziraphale knows his moment has arrived.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41
Collections: Name That Author Round 11





	Close to Home

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the go-events server's Name That Author game. The prompt this time was "bingo/bullseye". Check out the collection for more!
> 
> (Also, I will be back! This is the longest I've gone without posting a fic in bloomin' ages but I'm working on this massive - and silly - AU. I hope you like guessing games...)

“You never told me you were so bad at darts,” Crowley teased as they left the pub, and Aziraphale glared at him with all the malice of a warm spring day.

“I’m not a  _ cherub,  _ Crowley. I don’t do  _ arrows. _ ”

“Oh, I see. Sign you up for the 5-a-side longsword tournament next time, shall I?”

“Oh, is there-?” The penny dropped. “Oh, hush, you.”

“Nah, you’d only get bored if I went quiet.”

He  _ would,  _ Aziraphale knew. Crowley’s chatter, his endless bluster and his dramatic, overblown gestures, had been a part of Aziraphale’s existence since humanity took its first tentative steps into the desert. They’d brought him comfort when the rain fell and laughter when the sun shone, and he wouldn’t have Crowley silent and sad for all the world.

But Crowley was quiet now, peaceable enough, just walking at Aziraphale’s side with two fingers of each hand tucked into the pockets of his ludicrously tight trousers. Aziraphale appreciated those trousers, but he envied their possession of Crowley’s hands, hands that rightly belonged in Aziraphale’s own. He’d barely thought it, fingers twitching with longing, before Crowley casually slipped his right hand into Aziraphale’s left.

“Shall we walk for a bit?”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale replied, and they wandered up a winding footpath into the hills.

_ This is your moment,  _ he realised, as they followed the path beneath a canopy of honeysuckle.  _ You’ve been waiting for your moment, and this is it.  _ The elder trees were poised on the verge of blossoming; a scattering of tiny white flowers opened as they passed and Aziraphale couldn’t be sure which of them had caused it.  _ You need to ask him now. _

They emerged from the wooded path at the very top of the hill, the patchwork fields spread out before them and the sun just beginning to set on the horizon. A perfect moment; Aziraphale could only hope he wasn’t about to spoil it all.

“Crowley,” he began, before he could lose his nerve, and Crowley slid his phone smoothly back into his jacket pocket. When had he taken it out? Aziraphale, lost in thought, gazing out over the horizon, hadn’t even noticed.

“Angel?”

“It’s lovely here. I wonder- that is, it needn’t be here- needn’t happen at all, if you’d rather not-”

“Angel,” Crowley said again, and Aziraphale wrenched his train of thought back on track.

“What would you say to us taking a cottage in the countryside somewhere? To live,” he clarified, “together.”

“I-” Crowley’s jaw dropped. “I- yeah. D’you- d’you have somewhere in mind-?”

“Well, naturally we must choose together. But I did see a little place in Fulking, two bedrooms and a-”

“Conservatory?” Crowley pulled out his phone again and showed Aziraphale the listing, the very same listing Aziraphale had spotted in an estate agents’ window before lunch. “I was going to ask you. Second bedroom could be a library, I thought-” He almost dropped his phone as Aziraphale hugged him tightly. “That about right, then?”

Aziraphale beamed. 

“Bullseye.”


End file.
